Scandals Of The Powerful: Uncovering the Correttis / A Legacy of Secrets (Sicily's Corretti Dynasty) / An Invitation to Sin (Sicily's Corretti Dynasty) (Mills & Boon M&B)

by Carol Marinelli

  Luca smiled. ‘All of this excess energy is wasted because you’re running from a man who isn’t chasing you, tesoro.’

  ‘Don’t call me that.’ She spoke between her teeth. ‘When we’re on our own, there is no need to pretend we’re anything other than—’

  ‘Two people who share explosive chemistry in bed?’

  ‘Not that either.’

  ‘I fully understand your aversion to relationships. I’m having more trouble understanding your panic about a night of incredible sex. Is this because you lost control?’

  ‘I did not lose control.’

  ‘I enjoyed the opera by the way. I had no idea the whole experience could be so...passionate. I love to hear you moaning, but silent sex was surprisingly erotic.’

  Her look was fierce. ‘You took advantage.’

  ‘I didn’t hear you complaining either then or last night. You definitely moaned. And you dug your fingers in my back.’

  ‘Are you finished?’

  ‘For now. But only because we need to eat before we expend more energy.’

  ‘We won’t be expending more energy. This was a one-time thing. We’re going to forget this happened.’

  He should have been relieved to hear that from a woman. The fact that he wasn’t surprised him. ‘Fine by me. But any time you want me to make you moan again, just tap me on the shoulder. My skills are at your disposal.’ He saw her eyes flash.

  ‘I can live perfectly well without your skills.’

  ‘Are you sure? Because it seemed to me that you were pretty desperate there for a while.’

  ‘I was not desperate.’ Without looking at him she slung her bag over her shoulder and made for the door. ‘I’ll call a taxi.’

  Realising that she was serious, Luca sighed and sprang from the bed. ‘And spend tomorrow reading that we had our first row? You need to calm down and breathe. Give me five minutes in the shower and I’ll drop you on my way to work as usual.’

  ‘Not today.’

  ‘Yes, today. Taylor—’ he hauled her round and gave her a little shake, frowning slightly as he stared into eyes wide with fear ‘—this was just sex. Incredible sex, admittedly, but just sex. Sex followed by a lift to work.’ He said it slowly, as if he were speaking to a terrified child. ‘That’s all it is, so don’t allow the messed-up part of yourself to ruin everything we’re doing here. You were the one who got us into this but we’re in it now and we’re staying in it for as long as it suits us.’

  *

  She wasn’t messed up. She’d made mistakes and she’d learned from them and one of the things she’d learned was not to trust people. It was a simple rule and she’d had no trouble living her life by it. Until now.

  She told herself that sex wasn’t trust but she knew it wasn’t as simple as that. What she shared with Luca was more than just sex. He got inside her head. He saw who she was.

  And yes, she’d moaned.

  Appalled with herself, Taylor paced the length of the bedroom and then back again. She could hear the shower running and she turned her head, wrestling with an almost painful urge to throw caution to the wind and join him there.

  Admit it—last night was the hottest sex you’ve ever had.

  ‘No!’ She covered her ears with her hands to block out the sound of the water because hearing the water made her think of the man and thinking of the man made her think of his body and how it had felt to be with him.

  When that didn’t work she snatched up her bag in desperation and left the room.

  Down in the kitchen she found Geovana removing warm brioche from the oven. The scent was another assault on her already overloaded, overindulged senses.

  Her stomach rumbled. ‘Could I make myself some coffee, please?’ She muttered the words in English and vowed to learn more of the language while she was filming here. ‘Strong, black. Americano.’

  Geovana smiled and responded in Italian.

  Taylor caught one word that she translated as breakfast and shook her head. ‘I don’t eat breakfast.’ But Geovana either didn’t understand her or chose to ignore her because she loaded a plate with fresh, glossy brioche and placed it on the scrubbed, antique table in front of Taylor.

  Her mouth watered. It was as if everything in this house was designed to tempt her self-control. She felt herself weaken. ‘That smells so good but I really can’t—’

  ‘Granita.’ Geovana placed a glass filled with frosted sorbet in front of her and gestured that Taylor should eat the brioche with the granita. Unable to find a way of refusing without offending, Taylor broke off a piece of the soft, warm roll and ate as instructed, intending to take only a nibble.

  ‘Oh, that’s so good....’ She closed her eyes briefly, enjoying the flavour and the novelty of starting her day with food. She was so used to disciplining herself not to eat that she’d forgotten the pleasure of breakfast.

  ‘Sex and food in one day. You really have fallen off the wagon.’ Luca strolled into the room looking maddeningly fresh and relaxed while Taylor averted her gaze. He was the biggest temptation of all.

  ‘I came down for coffee and—’ She broke off as he kissed her and then stole a corner of her brioche. ‘Don’t do that!’

  ‘Kiss you or steal your food?’

  Judging from the way Geovana beamed at them both, she was thrilled by the scene of morning-after domesticity and Taylor was trapped by the story they’d spun.

  Luca spoke in Italian to Geovana and helped himself to coffee and brioche while watching Taylor. ‘You don’t like breakfast?’

  ‘Of course I like breakfast. It’s my favourite meal if you must know. Crispy bacon and a short stack.’ Her stomach growled. ‘I ran away from home once just so that I could eat it.’

  ‘You had to run away from home to eat breakfast?’

  ‘My mother decided that if I was allowed to embrace my appetites I soon wouldn’t have a career.’

  ‘So that’s when you stopped eating.’

  ‘I didn’t stop eating but I learned to control myself.’ Until I met you.

  ‘But having to control yourself for every minute of every day is exhausting. Eventually your natural impulses escape.’

  ‘No, they don’t, because I hold them in.’ Except she hadn’t held them in the night before. She knew it. He knew it.

  Taylor found herself looking at him across the table and thinking about the night before and maybe he felt it because his gaze lifted to hers and in that single split second she knew he was thinking about the same thing. Dropping her gaze, she focused on her breakfast, feeling intensely vulnerable. Not because they’d had sex, but because she’d been herself. It had been real.

  And he knew it.

  ‘I need to make a move.’ She stood up suddenly and gave Geovana a faltering smile. ‘Thank you. Grazie...’ She stumbled over the word, embarrassed that her Italian was so limited. ‘That was the most delicious breakfast.’

  Draining his coffee, Luca rose to his feet, kissed Geovana lightly on both cheeks and walked to the door. ‘I’ll give you a lift.’

  She would have preferred to drive herself but she knew that to have admitted that would have triggered questions she didn’t want to answer so instead she followed him into the car, her heart sinking at the thought of another day of filming. She wanted to lose herself in the role but with Rafaele hovering in her line of vision it was impossible.

  ‘So what’s the history between you and Rafaele?’ Luca accelerated down the long, tree-lined drive. ‘You dumped him. Why the antagonism?’

  ‘I’m sure your world is populated by disgruntled exes.’

  ‘That’s all that’s going on here?’

  She almost told him the truth but stopped herself in time, alarmed by the impulse to confide. She’d learned never to confide. Never to trust. She knew better than anyone that today’s confession was tomorrow’s headline so she kept her answer suitably bland. ‘He isn’t an easy man to please. He’s very critical.’ And he’d threatened her, but of course only she
knew that. Only she knew what he was holding over her.

  *

  ‘These photographs are boring.’ Luca scanned the images of a pretty girl standing on the sand with the sea behind her. ‘It’s like an advert for butter, not clothes. She’s too wholesome. That girl has never had wild dirty sex in her life. Where’s the edge? At the very least you should have stuck a huge shark in the water. We need something more contemporary and modern.’

  ‘She is modern.’

  ‘She looks like the girl next door.’ It didn’t help that he’d just had a night of raunchy sex with a woman he suspected might be half she-wolf. He turned away and stared out of the window of his office, thinking about Taylor.

  She hadn’t had much sleep the night before and she was expected to put in a twelve-hour day on the set with a director known for his childish temper tantrums and out of control drinking habit.

  A director who was clearly still festering over the fact Taylor had once dumped him.

  Making a snap decision, he picked up his car keys. ‘I’m taking my fiancée—’ he frowned slightly as he realised he’d managed to say the word without stumbling ‘—my fiancée for lunch. We’ll meet again tomorrow to talk about the campaign.’

  Wondering why no one else shared his vision for the new collection, he strode to the car and drove to the docklands where filming was taking place.

  As a Corretti and Taylor’s fiancé, he was allowed through the security cordon without question and he was about to ask someone where he could find Taylor when he saw her stroll through the abandoned docklands buildings, her hair flowing over an impossibly thin dress that floated around her slender frame. And he knew instantly that this was the image he wanted for his campaign. The contrast between decaying urban and floral femininity was exactly the look he wanted. Gianni had wanted a marine theme—docklands could be classed as ‘marine.’

  He was reaching for his phone to call Gianni and break the good news that he’d found the perfect setting, when he saw Rafaele striding towards Taylor.

  Just looking at the way he walked made Luca clench his jaw. It was more of a swagger than a walk.

  The man was a bully, a chauvinist and an idiot.

  He watched, assuming they were about to have a conversation, and froze as he saw the other man grab her arm, spin her round and pin her roughly against the dilapidated wall of one of the old docklands buildings. Taylor struggled frantically, her fists pummelling his chest as he trapped her against the wall. She was twisting and turning like a madwoman and when Rafaele locked his hand in her hair, Luca felt a rush of rage.

  Pumped up and furious, he abandoned his car, vaulted over the fence that surrounded the area being used for filming and sprinted towards her even as the director grabbed her face and kissed her.

  Luca launched himself at the other man with an angry growl, hauling him off Taylor as if he were a savage dog and delivering a solid punch to the side of his face. The director almost stumbled but then came back at Luca with a grunt. Within seconds both of them were rolling in the dust but Luca, younger and infinitely fitter, instantly had the advantage and he pinned the other man’s arm behind his back and pressed his face into the dirt.

  ‘Don’t ever touch her again.’ The blood in his veins pulsed with fury and he realised how close he was to the edge. Closer than he’d ever been in his life before. ‘You threaten her, you look at her in the wrong way, and I’ll come after you, capisci?’

  ‘Luca?’ From somewhere in the distance Taylor’s voice penetrated the mist of anger. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘I’m doing what someone else should have done the moment he touched you.’ Springing back to his feet, he nursed his throbbing hand. ‘I’m protecting you from him. Where the hell is everyone anyway?’ He glanced round and saw people emerge from the fringes of the set, openmouthed and speechless.

  ‘I was demonstrating a scene, you idiot.’ The director stumbled to his feet, rubbing his bruised jaw with his palm. ‘She kept getting it wrong.’

  ‘If she was getting it wrong then it must have been because your direction sucked,’ Luca said coldly, seriously tempted to knock him flat again.

  ‘You shouldn’t be on my set.’ The other man stood there, covered in dust and fuming. ‘I don’t care if the producer is your cousin. You can’t barge in here and disrupt filming.’

  Dealing with a suspicion that he might have overreacted just slightly, Luca turned his attention to Taylor.

  Her hair was mussed up and wild, her face as pale as an Arctic winter, her slender frame impossibly fragile in the flimsy dress.

  He spent his days dealing with women who were considered the most beautiful in the world but in that moment he knew he’d never seen a woman more beautiful than Taylor.

  And suddenly he knew. He didn’t just want the docklands for his advert, he wanted Taylor. ‘This is it.’

  ‘This is what?’ Rafaele snapped the words but Luca ignored him.

  ‘This is the place.’ Luca glanced around him, wondering why he hadn’t thought of it before. ‘It will be the perfect backdrop for the new Corretti collection.’

  ‘Luca...’ This time it was Taylor who stammered his name and Luca strode over to her and smoothed her tangled hair away from her face, worried by how exhausted she looked.

  ‘I want to do the shoot here and I want you to model the clothes. We can link it with the film. It will be great publicity for both sides of the business. I’ll talk to Santo.’

  ‘Luca, you just punched Rafaele. And your suit...’ She gave him a strange look. ‘You’re covered in dirt.’

  Surprised, he glanced down at himself and realised he hadn’t given a single thought to his appearance when he’d jumped the gates and wrestled in the dirt. ‘There’s a price to everything,’ he drawled lightly. ‘I wanted to stop him hurting you.’

  ‘But it was part of the film. This is my work.’ Her eyes skidded to the director and Luca felt a rush of emotion he couldn’t interpret as he saw the look they exchanged.

  It was a look of two people who knew each other. Knew each other well.

  ‘You were struggling.’

  ‘That was the part I was playing. My character is very conflicted about seeing her husband again.’

  ‘You looked scared. Not the character, you. You were afraid of him.’

  There was a few seconds of silence and then desperate eyes met his. ‘I don’t need you running to my rescue, Luca. What were you thinking?’

  It wasn’t what he’d expected her to say.

  He’d expected gratitude, even silent gratitude. He hadn’t expected criticism and he certainly hadn’t expected that question.

  What had he been thinking? Just for a moment his brain froze. ‘I’m your fiancé.’ He was relieved as the answer came to him. Yes, that was why he’d reacted in such an extreme way. He’d got so deeply into the role that he was actually starting to feel the way a fiancé should feel. What did they call it? Method acting or something. ‘When I see you in trouble I’m going to try and protect you, and yes, I’m a touch possessive. Don’t expect me to apologise for that. I’m Sicilian. We don’t hand our women over to other men without a fight. If that isn’t what you want from a relationship then maybe you’re with the wrong guy.’

  Her shock mirrored his own.

  What the hell was he saying?

  He didn’t want the relationship to end. And anyway, how could you end something that wasn’t real in the first place?

  Freaked out by a nagging voice that told him he’d totally lost the plot this time, Luca turned on his heel and strode away.

  *

  ‘Luca wait. Wait!’ Taylor sprinted after him, ignoring the sick feeling in her stomach that was her barometer of trouble. She knew a bucket load of it waited for her back on set but right now she had other things on her mind. Like Luca’s extreme reaction.

  She’d never seen him anything but relaxed. Even when he was driving too fast or drinking too much she had the sense that every action he took was d
eliberate, but this...

  He’d been out of control, and if she needed confirmation of that then all she had to do was look at his suit.

  Luca Corretti was never anything less than immaculate and yet his perfectly tailored suit was marked from his scuffle on the ground and there was a small tear in the leg of his trousers, no doubt caused when he’d jumped the fence. Jumped the fence to protect her.

  Her heart was racing like a horse leading the field in the derby. All day she’d tried to block out memories of the night before but she thought about it now, her mind and her body remembering the intensity, the intimacy, everything they’d shared.

  ‘Don’t walk away—don’t—’ She caught up with him by the gate and grabbed his arm, releasing him immediately as he shook her off. ‘Just...wait, will you? We need to talk.’

  He stopped walking but his face was cold. Colder than she’d ever seen it. ‘You just made it clear I’m not welcome on the set.’

  ‘Because we’re in the middle of filming, but—’ She glanced over her shoulder quickly and his face blackened.

  ‘So are you going to tell me what is going on between you and that guy? I mean, what’s really going on?’

  Taylor’s mouth dried and her heart bumped hard against her ribs. ‘Nothing.’

  ‘This is me you’re talking to.’ His voice was thickened with emotion as he closed the gap between them. ‘Last night we shared everything. Last night you were honest. Don’t ever hide who you are from me.’

  Was she the only one who thought this conversation was crazy? ‘Last night was...’ What was it? Taylor shoved her fingers through her hair, not knowing how to begin to unravel the emotions at play here. Not knowing which questions to ask or which answers she wanted to hear. Glancing over her shoulder, she checked no one was close enough to overhear them. ‘Is this you acting? Because I don’t know what’s real and what isn’t any more.’

  There was a long pulsing silence.

  Luca stared at her. Something flickered across his face. ‘You were scared.’

  She took a step backwards, shaken that he’d seen that when no one else had. ‘I was acting.’

  ‘No, that was real. You were scared.’ He pushed and pushed, cracking open the shell she’d put around herself, seeing right through to the truth. ‘I know you were scared and as long as he scares you, I’ll be there to protect you.’